


Trying to keep an eye on you like a hurt lost and blindfolded fool

by myrtale



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Christmas, Christmas Fluff, Christmas Party, Domestic Fluff, F/F, F/M, Fluff, M/M, Secret Santa, dragon - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-23
Updated: 2015-12-30
Packaged: 2018-05-08 13:18:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,181
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5498456
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/myrtale/pseuds/myrtale
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For the Fandom Secret Santa 2015!</p>
<p>When his crazy uncle Gaius died, the only thing Merlin received was a huge pinkish egg that seemed to be sculped into the marble.<br/>Well, maybe that egg's not just an egg.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ladymerthur](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladymerthur/gifts).



> This is the first part of the story I wrote for the Secret Santa 2015 - yes, I asked to the person for who this present is before posting it with my accout and I was allowed to do it.
> 
> English's not my mother lenguage; I did my best, but if you find something wrong, don't be afraid to tell me my mistakes!
> 
> Hope you like it.

If his mother asked him for what reason he put the egg into the fire, Merlin wouldn't find an answer for her. He only knew that he just did it, that he had put that huge egg on the burning ashes of the fireplace. After that, Merlin had moved like he was in trance; he had revived the fire so that the flames could leave dark marks on the egg's surface.

That egg was uncle Gaius' estate, an uncle that Merlin never knew but, for what Merlin had read, was a man who wasn't really sane. The letter, written on a paper who looked like a sheet of parchment, said that that egg was the most precious thing in the entire world. It was a dragon egg and Merlin was its keeper; from that moment on, Merlin would look after it and keep it safe because the creature that was inside of that egg wouldn't come to life for a long time. It would come to life, pursuant the words of the crazy uncle Gaius, two centuries _before_ the humanity was ready to receive so the creature could grow and display in all his power.

At first, Merlin thought that those words were nothing but stupid thing written by an ill old man who was going to die, an old man who maybe wanted to tell the first and last story to the nephew he could never meet, but now... new he had to rethink about the whole thing. Merlin had woken up in the middle of the night after dreaming about an enormous white dragon with pinkish wings and its snout was covered by shiny and immaculate scales and Merlin had looked it in the eyes, and the dragon's were incredibly blue, its pupil just like two crevices on another universe. Merlin had woken up after that all sweaty.

If he hadn't put it in the fire, Merlin could sell it at a good price at a museum: the egg was shaped just like the one of a chicken, but it was big and heavy like a two-years-old child. It was covered by sharp scales that were thick like a nail and big like an ear; they were half white and half of a suffused pink. It looked like it had been sculpted into a block of marble that was then painted. There were people who, for an object like that, would spend even five-thousand pounds.

With his spoon, Merlin divided into pieces the lemon slice that floated in his tea. Or, to be precise, the _rests_ of the lemon slice, so just the pale peel – which was perfectly round – and some pieces of pulp. He drank a sip of his drink and he made a smirk when a piece of lemon, bitter and sour, went into his mouth.

A sudden crack made his eyes raise; it came from the egg.

Merlin's mind almost blacked out. He had watched too many horror films in his life and he knew even too well that that was the sound that broken bones made. Suddenly he realised that an egg shell is nothing but a bone.

A big split divided almost in two the thing, and the crack was deep and dark, like if inside of it there was the whole universe. A vapour blow came out of the egg.

Merlin left his mug on the floor and sprang in the fireplace direction without thinking. He put his hands into the fire and took the egg out of it without minding the flames that were probably burning his skin. Merlin put the egg on his lap and used his sleeping shirt to clean it from the ashes and the soot. The split opened more and he could see what was inside of the egg and he saw something white _that was moving_ and was grunting with a tiny voice.

For a crazy reason he knew that the creature wouldn't harm anyone but he would have _never_ let it near to his mother if he wasn't really sure that it was completely harmless. He stand up and lift the egg using both his arms, because, really, it was too heavy to be lift with only one arm.

Merlin put it on the coffee table in front of the sofa and then ran upstairs to take all his clothes and his backpack. He moved to London five years before but he had never really left Ealdor: every so often, he liked to come back to the small village where he lived for so long and, even thought that that visit wasn't something programmed, he didn't mind it. Ealdor was too far from London because Merlin could travel from the city to the village in only one day, so he had to stay at his mother's house after the reading of uncle Gauis' will.

His old bedroom contained all his teenage and child life: there were _Mickey Mouse_ sheets, some _Star Wars_ posters, a _Shining_ flier and some miniatures of knights and horses and faeries and mythological creatures organised on a shelf above the bed. Merlin put on his pyjama a pair of jeans, a sweater and on top of everything he wore his blue raincoat. Then he picked up his backpack – in which he had squished all his clothes. For last, he wore his boots and ran downstairs – on his tiptoes to be sure to not wake his mother.

With his rucksack on his shoulders, he bent to collect the egg and, stumbling, he managed to go out. It would be _really_ difficult to explain to his mother for what reason he had to run away that wasn't “Well, I went away because a dragon was coming to life into your living room”. Merlin had to remember that he had to think about an excuse for running away from her in the middle of the night.

When he finally reached the end of the walkway of his mother's garden, his back was hurting and his pelvis was getting hit by waves of pain and after a while every breath was an agonizing suffering.

Merlin wobbled on the street, the first rays of sunshine lightened the sky of the end of October, the egg into his arms kept cracking and blowing vapour that smelled of sulphur.

He kept stumbling, sweat covering his brow, directed where his instinct was making him move.

The creature into the shell complained again and moved, and Merlin almost made it fell.

  "No no" said Merlin gripping it tightly. "Don't _even think_ to fall right now."

As if the creature listened to his words, it calmed down and seemed to set on the bottom of its little shell-house.

Merlin sighed in relief and then restarted walking slowly, his hands slick with sweat caused by the pain and by the stress his arms and shoulders muscles were suffering.

Then he noticed were he was going: he was stumbling step by step toward the pond just out Ealdor. Sweating and huffing, Merlin succeeded to take the egg near to the basin.

Merlin put it on the soft grass and kneeled next to it, his trousers got damp by the morning dew.

And he waited, because he didn't know what to do, but the little animal inside of the shell didn't move anymore. Merlin touched it, he teased one of the chinks using his finger hoping that the creature wouldn't eat up his phalanx, but nothing happened.

Then he understood: the dragon – by then he was absolutely sure that it could be only a dragon – had obeyed to his words immediately, earlier, when it was trying to break the shell. Maybe he had to listen to another order to go out of its egg.

  "Uhm... you can come out" he mumbled.

The creature woke up: with a pointy, white muzzle it broke the top of the shell and...

_Oh, god, a dragon._

It was, in truth, a _tiny_ dragon – it couldn't be taller than eleven inches and its wigs seemed to be made with transparent jello. The creature was completely white, its anterior paws were raised up and kept pressed against its reinforced chest. It had a muzzle like the one of a dog and its eyes were huge and light blue. And it had two tiny, pinkish horns on the top of its head.

The creature moved a step towards him using only its rear paws and moving to the left and then to the right its long tail. Merlin's sight became blurred when the dragon put its paws on his leg. It looked and acted like a kitten.

He put his hands so that they formed a small cup and the dragon climbed on them and then settled. It bended its head like how a pigeon could do and it kept doing happy and high grunts.

Merlin was moved beyond any point.

He couldn't keep himself together; when the dragon flapped his jello wings and did another sound, two big tears rolled down his cheeks and met on his chin. The creature got frightened, seeing him cry, and Merlin understood that, being a dragon, it was surely a great surprise to see that is was possible to create _liquids_ instead of flames.

The creature climbed on his arm and went onto his shoulder, and started rubbing its little pointy head on Merlin's face. The man raised a trembling hand and used it to pet the squamose dragon's back – dragon who seemed to enjoy those little rubs.

Merlin had to find a name for the creature, but the only word that came to his mind was a meaningless one; _Aithusa_.

He petted its head once again and then collected all the shell's pieces and put them into his rucksack. The problem, _now,_ was that he had to go to London by train and with a dragon on his shoulder he wouldn't pass unnoticed.

Merlin took the creature in his hands once again and he kissed between its eyes before saying: "You have to sleep, now."

The dragon licked his thumb with its tongue, which, against Merlin's skin, felt like sandpaper, and then cuddled up even if it was too big to fit in Merlin's hands. Doing everything in a very quiet way because he didn't want to wake it, Merlin put it on a sweater inside of the rucksack and closed it up leaving a small opening in the zipper – he had to be sure that the creature had enough air.

Merlin was just hoping that the dragon wouldn't wake up in the middle of the journey.

 


	2. First Chapter - Arthur and Aithusa

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of all, this story's title is a quote of the R.E.M.'s song "Losing my religion", which is a really nice song.  
> Second, I'm rewatching Merlin and I have just noticed that Kilgharrah referres at Aithusa using "He/him"; however, I have always thought that Aithusa was a girl so in this story it's a girl and I'll use "she/her".
> 
> Oh, and I'll probably need some other chapters because three aren't enough. How does five chapters sound?
> 
> As for the prologue, if you find any mistake, let me know and please review and drop a kudos! :3
> 
> PS: I searched for a female version of the word "dragon" and I was only able to find "Dragoness", but my writing program marks it as wrong, so I'm not really sure about it...

Their journey to London had been quiet, perfectly normal; Merlin had bought a ticket and, when he and his hidden dragon were on the train to the capital, he had called his mum to make sure that she wasn't freaking out.

“You weren't here, this morning!” she had said, her voice high pitched – like it always was when she was worried. “Not a note, not a single word! You just weren't there and there wasn't even that egg! Were are you?!”

“On a train to London, I'm going home.”

He had took the first train to London, that morning, so he would arrive in the city in the late evening. Merlin opened the zipper of his rucksack a bit and used two fingers to pet the dragon. It was sleeping, and its little ribcage was going up and down following its breathing. The lady who was sitting in front of Merlin watched him like he was some sort of maniac and then turned back to her book, a slight disgusted grimace on her face.

His mum sighed heavily. “And why are you going back to London so early? I thought you wanted to stay with me for a while, at least for all the weekend.”

“I know and I'm really sorry. I _really_ thought that I could have stayed for two days, but... you know, the new boss is a bit of an asshole, so he called me and said that I have left some work undone.”

His mum sighed again and Merlin knew right away that she knew he was lying without any shame. Well, not everything was a lie, in what he said: his new boss was really an arsehole and it was true that Merlin had left some work undone because he did't have enough time on Friday because he had to go to Ealdor. “I always told you you have to finish your homework before doing something else” she said in a mocking way.

Merlin smiled. “I'll call you, yeah?”

“Good. Have a good journey.”

 

 

Merlin opened the door of his flat a few minutes after ten o'clock.

He was _worn out literally_ : he hated travelling by train and he hated such long journeys. _And_ he was hungry.

His house was a two-rooms flat in which he had lived since when he had finished the university; the floor was made of wood that was a little warped by the humidity and there was an old – it had been probably made in the first years of the Forties – heater. How it ended in a building that had been built _decades_ after the Forties was a mystery. Merlin had bought all his furniture with the help of his mother at different thrift shops and markets; when he had bought them, he was still temporary employed and he didn't had much money to spend. After years those old, ugly furniture had became _his_ old, ugly furniture and he loved every single piece of it and he could never throw away anything. Living room and kitchen were in the same room and, when he opened the windows to make the smell of food go out of his house, he had to hide into the bathroom or in his bedroom. His bedroom was, in truth, just a storage closet. The owner of the building had told him, when Merlin had bought the flat, that, being on the last floor of the building, the second room's ceiling lowered exponentially because of the roof. “Well, there has to be a roof and wasting space for an attic would mean a big loss of money for me” the owner had explained. Anyway, even if his room was narrow, Merlin had managed to put into it his queen-size bed by pushing it against a wall and organising its pillows under the skylight.

It was the perfect location for a bed, for Merlin: when the night sky was clear he could see the lights of London shine into the darkness and, when it rained, he could hear he drops fall on the glass of the window and the sound was _so near_ and _so clear_ that Merlin could fantasise about being in a forest during a rainy day.

Merlin carefully put his backpack on the sofa and then opened the zipper. He took the dragon out and setted it on one of the pillows that his mother had embroidered with a red wire.

The word _Aithusa_ kept coming to his mind and it was almost pulsing into his brain stronger and stronger.

He licked his lips and used his index to pet the small space between the dragon's horns. “Aithusa” he said without thinking and his voice seemed to came out of the deep of his lungs, like it wanted to take all the air from his chest.

At the word, the dragon woke up and started grunting in a satisfied way.

Merlin couldn't stop smiling. “Is this your name? Aithusa?”

The dragon wagged him albino tail.

“Good, Aithusa, my great dragon-” he stopped: Aithusa looked like something had offended him; he was on his rear paws and his gaze was low. What if...? “My great dragoness...?” he tried, not really sure.

Aithusa let out a small scream of excitement.

“Aithusa the Lady Dragoness is, then. So, I have to find out what you eat and where to put you when I'm not here.”

 

 

He soon found out that Aithusa was mostly carnivore – she ate ham and uncooked grounded meat, but she didn't reject some types of vegetables like tomatoes and courgettes. She liked the peel of the potatoes and drank only boiling milk.

For the first period of their cohabitation, Merlin made her sleep on his cushion at night but then he noticed she didn't seem to rest well so he started burning wood into the heater so that she could sleep on the burning ashes.

When he was at work he didn't want to left his flat while the heater was still burning, so he just learnt that his dragoness liked to sleep on hot water bottles.

Durning the nights, when Merlin lied on his back and watched the sky or listened to the rain sounds, he thought about the mythological creature who slept in the heater in the other room. Merlin had noticed only at the beginning of November that his reaction to the dragoness hadn't been the one of a human: a normal person would probably throw the egg into the pond, but Merlin had hosted in his house a baby dragon and had started treating her like a domestic pup, like how he would have done with a cat or a dog.

Mayne one of his ancestor was a dragon-trainer or something like that.

But, after all, those reflections were pointless and just dragged him to sleep.

 

Another Monday. Another nightmare day.

The publishing house were Merlin worked had been bought a few years back by a terrible guy who looked like Severus Piton from _Harry Potter_ , and from that moment on things had gone dramatically worse; the wages were poorer but people stayed there because they loved their work. And Merlin, obviously, couldn't do anything else.

He had to work with the manuscripts, pages and pages written by hand at the postal address of the publishing. Sometimes – even too often, to say the truth – the pages were drenched or they smelled of mould or, this happened _really too frequently_ , he couldn't read what was written because of the calligraph.

Mondays, though, were the hardest day of the entire week: all the manuscripts were delivered that day – and they were the ones that were sent on Friday night and on Saturday and Sunday – and _every_ section had its problems; the computers didn't work and if they did, Internet didn't work and if it did, the light went off without a reason and all the work got wasted.

Merlin was going to kill himself with a stapler. A stapler _without_ staples, by the way!

He looked around hoping to see that idiot of Will Williamson – his parents had been perfidious – climbing on a chair to use his lighter to make the fire system ring. Will had already did it once the year before, probably during the Christmas period, Merlin seemed to remember that it was the last Friday before the Christmas Holidays begun, and everybody were out of their head because they wanted to finish their work before going home. His boss, then, hadn't watched the security videos and so Will just kept working there without problems.

Merlin reached the green stapler and took it in his hand.

But, before he could use it to hit his right temple several times, Mithian Nemeth approached him.

Mithian had been working in the graphic section for five years, she was the only daughter of a fashion designer who earned millions each year and, if she hadn't decided to live without the money help of her parents, in that moment she would probably be on a beach somewhere in the Caribbean drinking some expensive cocktail.

“Will you come to the _reunion_ , tonight? We haven't seen you for a while...” she asked sitting on Merlin's desk edge.

The _reunion_ was a pompous way to call what was simply a group of friends who met to stay together for a dinner. Well, friends who were single or with sentimental problems; the group had the goal to be free psychological help: at least once a month, one of them – not Merlin, though: his flat was too small to host five people and _now_ there was even a dragoness and that would be hard to explain – hosted the others in his or hers house and they eat together while complaining about their works, their private lives and their relationships.

“Who hosts, this time?” asked Merlin putting down the stapler.

Mithian thought about it. “Elena hosts. We eat junk food and watch shitty telly and everybody goes to sleep by eleven o'clock” she smiled.

“Okay.” Merlin nodded. “Good, I'll be there. Don't wait for great tales about my weekend in Ealdor, though.”

The girl used her hand to move her long, brown hair form her shoulders and fixed her skirt before showing him her tongue and walking away in her section direction.

With the idea of the _reunion_ being that evening, his day seemed to slip away; Merlin finished the hard, working hours, went home, took a shower, fed Aithusa and took a nap with his dragoness cuddled up next to his ear. That evening, before going downstairs in the hall of the building, he left to Aithusa a bowl with a small portion of meat and two hot water bottles.

Once he was in the hall, he had to wait for Morgana to arrive. Morgana was one of the two people who, in their group of friends, had a car.

When Merlin saw her through the glass front door of the building, he ran out and then kept running as quickly as possible – it was damn cold, that year!

He jumped on Morgana's black Mercedes and he didn't even greet her, when he closed the door behind him: he unzipped his raincoat and almost got liquid on the heated seat, when the warm air of the heat caressed his face and neck.

“Good evening to you too” said Morgana.

Merlin just answered with a pleasured groan while slowly sliding on the leather seat.

Morgana chuckled and started driving headed to Elena's house.

Morgana looked like an evil princess, she looked like Morgain La Fey, the witch of the Arthurian legends: she had incredibly long and thick black hair – it was died: she was a blonde – and had deep green-grey eyes. When she worked her hair was perfectly combed and she wore a pair of glasses and dresses that, probably, costed like Merlin's monthly wage; but, for the _reunions_ , she got out of her flat at Piccadilly Circus wearing a tracksuit and with her hair on her face. Merlin was sure that, under her coat hemmed with fur, she was wearing a pyjama or something like that.

They listened to the radio and stayed in silence, Merlin's sight that observed everything that was out of the window.

London had been his dream: he had always thought that Ealdor was a village that was sogripped on the old traditions that a gay boy could never find love there – and even because the boys who lived in Ealdor weren't particularly cute for Merlin's eyes. When he moved in London he had understood that the real problem had never been Ealdor mentality, but him; only at twenty-three he had managed to kiss someone for the first time and only at twenty-seven, so the year before, he had lost his virginity.

When he talked about these thing with Morgana or Mithian, who were his dearest friends, all what they said was that he hadn't to be worried: he was a beautiful, smart young man who had just to wait for the right person. It was fair better wait for the right person, than waisting every moment because of the irrational fear of not being at the same level as his peers. Well, the truth was that Merlin felt ashamed, no matter what. He had passed a lot of years wondering what was wrong in him, if it was because he was too sarcastic or if it was because of its looks – he knew how he looked: he had huge ears, his teeth were the ones of a rabbit and he was so slim that he looked like a scarecrow no matter what he wore. There was no solution, to those characteristic – for the slim part, lots of people had suggested him to just eat more but it wasn't by his choice: he ate all what he could and yet he had no weight at all! - so he had begin to hate everybody. In that period of his life, he had isolated himself in his little world. He had met Mithian in that period; she had dragged her chair to Merlin's desk during their lunch break and did so everyday for a straight week until Merlin got tired of having his desk covered by Mithian's sandwich crumbs and had asked her what the hell did she wanted from him. Mithian, who was in her rebellion phase – she had cut her hair in an horrible hairstyle and wore clothes with colours that would never ever match together – had started to explain to him that there was this group of people who met at least twice a month to eat rubbish and watch horrible films and complain about their lives. Even if he wasn't really sure, Merlin went to the first _reunion_ of his life. And then he kept going and going every time he could and in the end the member of this group became his best friends.

“There'll be Gwaine too, tonight” said Morgana.

It took Merlin completely wrong footed. He had a massive crush for Gwaine for _months_ , probably since Merlin had sex for the first time. It was not with Gwaine, but... still. The whole sex part had been terrible for him: he had bled on the sheets and the guy who was with him was pissed and then got angry because those were _his_ sheets and Merlin had stained them and, god, he wasn't that beautiful to leave some sheets stained without having to worry. So, Merlin had gathered his clothes up and dressed himself before escaping, his muscles sore and tears streaming down his cheeks. When he got home, he had cried the hell out of himself; Gwaine had found him like that: they were supposed to go to the _reunion_ together that evening, but, when Merlin hadn't showed up in hall, the older man got preoccupied and went into Merlin's flat hoping to find him there. Well, Merlin was there, a crying mess on his bed. Gwaine had hugged him, asked what happened, listened to all his sobs and then kept hugging him and petting him and saying that, if he found that bloke walking on the street, he would punch him. They didn't went to the _reunion_ , that night: they stayed in Merlin's flat all cuddled up on the younger's bed.

Morgana noticed his reaction. “Why don't you just tell him? He's gay, you're gay, he knows you're gay, were's the problem?”

“You know where the problem is, Morgana.”

She sighed in discomfort. “You have to stop thinking you're ugly!”

Merlin just shrugged and kept watching out of the windscreen. Gwaine went in Ireland two months before because his dad was breathing his last breaths and Gwaine wanted to be with him in such a moment. Merlin had called him several times, but the man answered only to three of his calls and the last one happened almost two weeks before and Gwaine said that his father was dead and he was organising his funeral with his mum.

After a while, Morgana parked in front of the building were Elena lived. “There'll be Arthur too. He has just broken up with his girlfriend and now he's all sad and stuff.”

“Wasn't his girlfriend _that_ Vivian?”

“Yep. C'mon” said Morgana grabbing her purse and opening the door.

Merlin followed her as well.

Morgana's family was a mess: her mother had Morgana when she was still very young – probably at seventeen – and, after a few years, her boyfriend died leaving her alone with a toddler. Then Ygraine, that was Morgana and Arthur's mum's name, had met Uther Pendragon – already in the middle of his thirties – and fell in love with him. She had Arthur at nineteen and she married Uther some months later wearing a blue dress. Ygraine had died, though, and the children were raised by Uther, who seemed to hate everything and everybody. _That_ Vivian was the girl who, when Morgana had just started the university, had knotted Morgana's hair to the iron headboard of the bed, and she had to cut them all off.

Once in the building, they took the elevator – a luxury that there wasn't in the building where Merlin lived – and pressed the button to the floor where Elena's flat was.

They entered without knocking or ringing the bell. The coat hanger was already loaded and under that there were all the shoes of the _reunion_ 's members; Merlin recognized Mithian's _Vans_ and her blue wool coat, Leon's sneakers and his black parka, Gwaine's old leather jacket and his boots and there was a long coat made of dark grey wool but no shoes that would match the style of that person – it was probably Arthur's. Morgana took off her coat and her high heeled shoes. Merlin, after a few moments passed just staring at Gwaine's jacket, shook his heat and took his raincoat and shoes off.

“Are they Morgana and Merlin?” asked Elena, who was probably in the kitchen.

In the last months she had found a new hobby: cooking. Well, it wasn't properly a hobby: it was much more like an addiction – like the one of _Julie & Julia_, that girl who cooked all the recipes in Julia Child's book. The four of them – so Morgana, Leon, Gwaine and Merlin – had betted on how long that cooking-thing would have lasted; Leon had been the most generous of all, because he had bet that it would last six months.

“No” answered Leon, who was sitting on the floor next to the coffee table. “They're Scrooge and the ghost of Christmas present.”

“Damn, Leon, it's not even December yet!” exclaimed Elena.

“Ah-ah-ah. _Veeeeery_ funny. Just like you” said Morgana going next to him and hitting him with a small slap on the back of his head.

Merlin liked Leon and he knew that Morgana's heart went wild when she saw him. Leon was fascinating, even if he wasn't Merlin's type: Leon had short, curly hair that was of a shade that was between gold and ginger, light blue eyes and he was a tall man – even taller than Merlin, who was six feet tall – with broad shoulders.

While Morgana and Leon started shouting at each other and the man was trying to hit her – who was _way more_ athletic than him and who jumped from one piece of furniture to another – Merlin walked towards Gwaine, who was sitting on the only armchair of the living room.

“Come here, sweetie.” Gwaine was smiling at him and was holding out his hand.

Merlin took it and Gwaine dragged him and made him sit on his lap. Sadly, Merlin noticed that Gwaine's dark eyes were sad even if he had a smile on his handsome face.

“Hey” said Merlin in a whisper, his nose maybe too close to Gwaine's neck. It wasn't a problem for the others: they knew that Merlin and Gwaine were gay, but only Morgana was aware of the fact that Merlin had a crush on the tall-dark-handsome man and Merlin knew that the evil princess would give him a hard time because he _had to_ confess his feels to Gwaine. Merlin ignored all what his mind was screaming to him and settled on Gwaine's comfortable lap; it was warm and the man's chest was strong and well muscled against Merlin's ribcage.

“Hey to you too. I'm sorry for how I treated you when you called. I know you wanted to help but...”

“There's nothing to be sorry for, really.”

“You're too kind to me, Merls” Gwaine sighed nosing Merlin's cheek.

Merlin's heart fluttered with happiness. “Yeah” his voice was shaking, “maybe.”

He was aware of what Gwaine was doing; once, he had said that Merlin's smell was the most wonderful in the entire world. So Gwaine kept sniffing his skin while one of his hands was rubbing Merlin's ribcage. It was so soothing that Merlin almost fell asleep on Gwaine's lap.

Almost because a person got out of the kitchen and sat down on the sofa.

The first thing that came to Merlin's mind was: _divinity_. The second: _posh_. The third: _king_.

He must have been Morgana's brother, and it caught Merlin's complete attention: the writer who was hidden in him started analysing what he was wearing and how he was sitting and how were his features. Merlin started from the eyes, because, like one Japanese proverb said, the eyes were the door to the soul of the person; Arthur's were light blue, almond shaped and he had blond, almost white, eyelashes. Then Merlin's sight went down, his brain still examining. Morgana's brother's hair was light gold, completely different from the shade of Leon's, and straight, cut short; his features were strong: his cheekbones were high, his jaw was chiseled, his brow was wide and his nose... at a first glance, it seemed too big for his face: it was aquiline, big and strong just like Arthur's other features. But after a few moments Merlin realised that it was just perfect: a nose worth of a king. Then, his attention was caught by his clothes: white button-up, black jeans and a pair of _Timberland_ shoes. Arthur was just like his sister: he wore expensive clothes which suited him perfectly.

Speaking of Morgana, Merlin's gaze fell on her – who was screaming while laughing and running away from Leon, who was laughing too – and saw that she was wearing one of those one-piece pyjama with unicorns who vomited rainbows and little hearts. What.

“Hi. You must be _Mer_ lin”

Arthur spoke with a light Welsh accent – Morgana had lost it years before, much to Merlin's disappointment.

Seeing that Merlin wouldn't answer soon, Arthur holt out his hand and added: “I'm Arthur, Morgana's brother.”

“You're my half-brother!” she shouted and Merlin didn't even notice _where_ she was, because all his attention was on Arthur.

Then, when he noticed that the blond was staring at him like he was a weird creature – Aithusa came to his mind – he blushed and mumbled: “Yes, I'm... I'm Merlin.”

Arthur smiled and, oh god, his teeth were a bit crooked and Merlin knew that his face was turning purple so he started staring at his knee. Seeing his embarrassment, Arthur drew back and started chatting with Elena.

Twenty minutes after or so, dinner was ready and everybody was sitting on the floor near to the coffee table – everybody but Merlin, who was still on Gwaine's lap.

“I thought Mithian said there would be junk food.” Merlin was slightly disappointed by the fact that they were eating chicken and potatoes.

Before someone could say “Everything Elena cooks is junk”, the cooker said: “You know, I'll be single for the rest of my life, but you all have to workout to find a person to love and I'm just trying to help.”

“You have such a good heart, El” grinned Gwaine.

Elena showed him the two fingers.

If Morgana was dark and pale and could be intimidating, Elena was the opposite: she had light blond hair, hazel eyes and delicate features.

“Why do you think you'll be single for the rest of your life?” asked Arthur, and Merlin felt bad for him. “You're cute and friendly and outgoing. Where's the problem?”

“The _problem_ is that I'm aromantic and asexual. I'm not looking for a relationship nor sex” she explained with a smile on her pale face. “It may sound weird, but I _don't want to_ have a relationship because I don't feel like I need it.”

Arthur nodded politely. “So... you're aromantic and asexual, Morgana's straight, Leon and Mithian are straight toot, I guess” he watched Leon nod, but Mithian shook her head.

“I'm still trying to find what I like” she explained.

Arthur smiled at her encouragingly before looking at Merlin and Gwaine, “And you two are in a relationship...?” for some reason, he looked like a child whose candies had been stolen.

“No, we simply come in the same package.”

Merlin added, grinning like a satisfied Cheshire Cat: “Two gays at the price of one. Isn't that convenient?”

Arthur's smile brightened.

“And you?” asked Morgana.

“Me what?”

“What is _your_ sexuality?”

“You know what it is.”

She shook her head. “I think I forgot.”

Arthur sighed and rolled his eyes. “I'm bi.” He looked at his sister, “Are you happy now?”

“Very much, thank you.”

Dinner went on and Arthur explained that his relationship with Vivian ended because she wanted him to leave his job and go with her in California – he discovered two days later after that discussion that she had cheated on him for months.

“What's your work?” asked Mithian, who was sitting next to him.

“I'm a cosmologist, I study the origin and the development of the universe and my only divinity is the mathematic operation that explains all of this in just a simple yet perfect calculus.”

Merlin took a deep breath before he could speak. “Stephen Hawking is working on that operation since the beginning of his career, you'll have to wait more, I fear.”

“The wait will be worth it, if the operation is right.”

Before Merlin could answer, Gwaine's hand went between Merlin's thighs and started caressing that sensible part of the leg. Merlin squirmed on his lap.

“Oh, my god, guys, there's a child here! You should have some behaviour!” exclaimed Leon pretending to be disgusted.

“What child?”

Gwaine's hand went higher, _really_ too close to Merlin's crotch.

Leon used his fork to point at Morgana, who hit his shoulder using her head.

“See?”

Morgana hit him again.

 

After dinner and after doing the dishes, they all got comfortable on the sofa and on the armchair. Merlin, for the first time that night, sat on the cushions and not on Gwaine's lap. Merlin ended up pressed between the armrest of the sofa and Arthur's warm thigh.

He felt weird: for months, his heart had been completely for Gwaine yet he knew he wasn't in love – not because he had been in love before, but because he had read enough books to know how a person in love feels – and what happened when Gwaine was in Ireland had probably killed his little, stupid crush a bit. It was still there, though. And it would _always_ be there because Gwaine was charming and kind and everything that Merlin liked in a man.

When they finished watching some awful Christmas film, they stayed in the living room some more to chat and then they started gathering their coats and shoes. Now that his mind wasn't focused on the moment, Merlin started wondering what Aithusa did while he was gone. He was sure that she hadn't burned down anything: she couldn't breath fire yet, but she had sharp claws and teeth that were even worse, so maybe she had tore into pieces the sofa or his bed just because she was feeling lonely.

“Merlin” Arthur got next to him. He looked even more posh and kingly wearing his wool coat. “Morgana asked me to give you a lift because you live on my way home. Would you like to come with me? Because I can ask her, if you're more comfortable...”

Merlin felt his face burning and he knew that his ridiculously big ears were red like tomatoes. He hated his stupid white-like-a-corpse face that got purple in less than five seconds. “Yeah, sure... why not?”

The blond looked incredibly satisfied and, with the corner of his eye, Merlin saw Gwaine giving him the thumb up in approval. Merlin blushed even more.

He buttoned his jacket and followed Arthur after waving his hand to Elena, who was still sitting on the armchair.

Pretty soon, Merlin learnt that Arthur was the male version of Morgana. She was a queen, he was a king.

“I thought that cosmologists didn't earn enough to have such a car” he said with a trembling voice, his gaze on Arthur's dark BMW because he knew that, if he fucked up everything like he always did with a new person, it would be much more simple if he didn't look that person in the eyes.

Arthur laughed and opened the car door for Merlin, who felt less awkward and a bit more confident. “I worked for my father's company while I was studying for my PhD. He payed for the university and all my studies _and_ I had the possibility to save something for my future.”

Merlin slid onto the seat and Arthur closed the door.

“If this is your _something_ , I can't image what means for you _a lot_.”

As Arthur drove, they didn't talk: a reassuring silence had fallen between them and it was strangely comfortable. Merlin had never felt so... so _free_ with a person he had just met. With Arthur everything seemed to come natural, as if something inside Merlin was trying to get him close to the blond Pendragon.

He wasn't feeling weird nor like if he wasn't supposed to be there; when Merlin had first met the members of the _reunion_ , he was sure he was a stranger and nothing more to them and only after months and months he had started thinking about them as his dearest friends.

“We all talked about why we are single...” Arthur broke the silence, and Merlin started tensing up. He knew that that moment had to come, but he hadn't thought that it would happen so soon. “But you didn't say anything... is that personal? I'll stop asking you questions, if it is, but it seemed strange.”

_Whatever, he's gonna discover everything anyway,_ he said to himself before opening his mouth. Yet, he didn't do a single sound: his jaw hanged there without a reason and, as soon as Merlin noticed, he closed it. Something inside of him was screaming that Arthur had to know about  _everything_ . Well, maybe not about Aithusa. Yeah, not about her.

Merlin started from the very beginning.

“My mum met my dad when they were very young and my mum got pregnant not even a year after they met. Their folks almost went crazy, especially my mum's, because she would have a brilliant school career but she had to suspend it because she wanted to take care of me. So, my parents went to Ealdor and married there before I could born. They bought a house and started working, my mum as a seamstress and my dad as a bricklayer, because it was all they could do in such a small village.

“They weren't made to last, though: they divorced when I was four but stayed friend. My dad remarried with a woman who is a few years older than him and moved from Ealdor. I think he is in Los Angeles, now. My mum found someone other too: his name's Cenred.”

“You hate him.” It wasn't a question.

“Not at all...”

Arthur raised an eyebrow.

“I... I still hope that he starts liking me, someday.”

“But he did something wrong.”

“The hell he did! First of all, he had never been home. He _still_ doesn't do that: he stays with my mum a few days and then leaves again, like a sailor. He tells mum that he does that because he has to work in other countries but my mum's not stupid and she knows that he's cheating on her. Second, he... he _despises_ me and all what I do, no matter what. I studied hard during my high school years and my marks were the highest in the entire shire, but for him it wasn't enough. So, when I started my Literature courses at the university, I worked too because I wanted to stand only on my feet only, but it wasn't enough yet. I moved from Ealdor, bought a flat in London, had a job, started constructing my own life, but it wasn't enough.

“ _What stupid Merlin does is_ never _enough, because he's stupid and he won't never ever be able to do anything like the other people do._

“And this is when he's talking about my intelligence, because he has always something to say about how I look and I hate it because I know I'm ugly, I have a mirror, at home, I don't need him to tell me how horrible I am and I don't need him to know that I'll die alone.”

Arthur almost jumped on his seat and Merlin could see that his knuckles were white. “Why would you think that?”

Merlin's worries disappeared and at their place he felt nothing but rage. “I know how I am! I know that I'm scrawny and weird and I know even better that, if my blood stains the sheets, I'm not pretty enough to leave the stains there” he shouted, angry like he hadn't been in years.

He interrupted himself when he noticed that Arthur looked at him like he was completely out of the world.

Merlin took a moment to catch his breath and calm down, before speaking again, but Arthur was quicker: “I think... I think that all you need is to find a  _good_ person. There are plenty of good and nice people, out there... maybe you're not looking in the right places.”

Merlin's pout broke into a small smile.

“Gwaine's nice. And Leon too.”

“Leon's straight, you know? _And_ he has a thing for your sister.”

Arthur parked and turned off the car. “I noticed.”

“Yeah, they're not subtle at all.”

“Are you saying that I'm not enough bright to notice such things?”

Before Merlin could start panicking, he saw Arthur expression. Even if he was trying to be all sirius, his eyes were bright and the way he was looking at Merlin was somewhat warm. Merlin didn't even know that a look could be warm; something inside of his stomach went hot and he felt his cheeks turning red. Yet he didn't feel embarrassed, just... like if everything in Arthur was supposed to be  _his_ .  _His_ Arthur, it sounded pretty good.

“Well?”

“You see, Mr Brightness” he said in a mocking voice, “some of us are smarter than the others and... _ow!_ Did you just hit me?”

Arthur laughed, his head thrown back and his Adam apple in full display. Merlin touched with trembling fingers where Arthur had hit him; the blow wasn't hard, really, it was almost like a caress. It was time to play for him too; without saying nothing, he just used his pointy elbow to poke Arthur between the ribs.

Arthur let out a yelp before starting to laugh again.

They laughed again in the darkness of the car and Merlin felt like heaven. He was nothing but a light, beautiful feather that danced in the wind.

When the laugh slowly died away, Arthur put his hand on Merlin's knee. Merlin felt shivers run down his spine.

“I was sirius, though” whispered Arthur.

He had whispered for no reason, but Merlin liked it: Arthur's voice became more deep, when he murmured.

“About what?”

“About the nice person. You'll find him, don't worry.”

Merlin slowly nodded. “It's better if I go, now. See you to the next  _reunion_ , then.”

“Yeah... goodnight, _Mer_ lin” said Arthur, his voice even deeper than before. Then, without any warning, Arthur kissed his cheek.

It lasted just a brief moment and Arthur's lips were warm and soft against Merlin's skin. Some butterflies started flying into his stomach and his happiness just exploded. Yet, he was too shy to kiss him and, when Arthur distanced himself, Merlin hurried to get out of the car and rushed into the building.

He ran up the stairs and, when he finally reached his flat, sweat was running down his back and on his brow. Once he was inside of his house, he pressed his back against the door, a hand on his chest to feel his heart beat furiously.

Aithusa walked in the room on her rear paws then, when she saw him, she hurried towards him and started jumping at his feet.

“Oh, god... Aithusa.”

He dropped on the floor and sat there, his coat and boots still on. Gently, he petted his dragoness' head.

“I met a person, today and...” he flushed again.

Merlin could feel his cheek burn were Arthur had kissed it.

Aithusa made an excited noise.

“His name is Arthur Pendragon and...”

The little dragoness seemed more interested, now. It made Merlin curious.

“What do you know, about him?”

Aithusa let out another groan and then walked away in little, jumpy and adorable steps.

It made Merlin suspicious; that little dragoness knew something he didn't.

 


End file.
